


Reality Fiction

by tohno



Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Angst, Drama, F/F, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Slice of Life, endgame spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-30
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-26 15:07:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12560116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tohno/pseuds/tohno
Summary: Endgame DRV3 Spoilers; Actual Summary in Chapter 1 Notes





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A DRV3 Endgame fic where everyone's trying to adjust to society. This is an AU where Kokichi Ouma survived Chapter 5. There's a lot of mental health issues explored in this fic as well, so stay safe!

It's been six months since Shuichi Saihara, Yumeno Himiko, Harukawa Maki, and Ouma Kokichi had won their freedom from the Gifted Inmates Academy. As Shirogane had told them, they had no family to claim them. Whoever they once called family another lifetime ago didn’t want to make themselves known, let alone claim the four as their children. While Saihara could have likely tracked them down they all made a unanimous decision to not seek them out. It would be painful and awkward, and they obviously weren't wanted, so they decided to get a small apartment together.

The rest of society willingly accepted them as the celebrities they never wanted to be. Blending in was impossible for the four of them. They briefly tried to attend a normal high school but found it impossible due to harassment from both diehard fans and critics alike. It didn't take long before they dropped out and instead begun to study for their GED. Team DanganRonpa supplied each of the four with a sum of money, which Harukawa elected to put it into a shared savings account, and paid therapy sessions for the rest of their lives. In an effort to integrate them into society as well as they possibly could Maki got her and Kokichi got a job doing inventory and stocking at a local supermarket and Himiko managed to use her fame to get hired at a Magician's shop. It was all gags, which made Himiko sad, since she'd rather sell items relating to real magic... but, well, it was a job, and it was one she was good at.

In the end, Saihara found that he was the worst at adjusting to life in the real world.

It was 5pm on a Monday, that weird time of the day where everyone was at their jobs except for Saihara because he couldn't manage to keep one. He should be at the library applying for a job, one job a day is what he had promised Harukawa-san, but instead he laid out on his futon that he never rolled up from the night before. He stares at the ceiling, letting his thoughts, all of his anxieties, collect within his lungs and settle there like a pair of feet stepping on his chest.

He told himself that he should at least get up and put the rice on before Maki got home, since she would be the first one off of her shift today, but his limbs feel like they’re made of iron and he could feel a slight thrum of a headache coming on. Honestly Saihara couldn’t deny the jealous and bitter feelings he had towards everyone else. They were all doing fine! He was the problem… Ouma-kun had suggested a few times that he just get back into detective work, but the idea made Saihara feel nauseous. It was something he was never good at to begin with, his memories were all fake. He should have known. Finding a pet alligator? Solving a terrible murder? He never actually accomplished anything. The only thing he was good at was unknowingly participating in reality television, and it hurt more than he was willing to admit it to anyone, his therapist included.

He briefly tried working at the job that Harukawa and Ouma both held but he was slow at restocking and after a panic attack while trying to work cashier he was let go. He let a few failures of other jobs play through his head, and then the tens of failed interviews where he knew before they even finished up that he didn’t make the cut. It didn't take a detective to realize that he was far from okay.

Thinking about everything combined with imagining Harukawa's face when she eventually comes home to find out that he not only never got up out of his futon but never applied for any jobs either is enough to make him reluctantly roll out of his futon and carefully stand on heavy legs. He heads into the girls' bedroom to use the attached and only bathroom in the small apartment to wash his face with some warm water and some of Harukawa-san's face wash. He almost brushes his teeth but decides it's too much effort so he instead slowly slinks into the living room to head to the small adjoining kitchen, barely big enough for one person. As he takes out the bag of rice in one of the cabinets and pours it into a bowl to wash it in the sink, he hears the click of the door behind him unlock.

“Saihara? I'm home.” Maki calls out,

“Welcome home.” He responds on auto pilot, feeling the rice run through his hands as he washes it thoroughly.

Maki takes off her shoes at the door and heads into the bedroom in order to change out of her work clothes and then joins Saihara, opening the fridge with a bag in hand from her job.

“How was your day?” Maki asks,

“Fine.” He answers, draining the rice and then refilling for a second wash,

There's a pause as Harukawa unloads fresh produce and other perishable foods that were about to expire into the fridge. Saihara briefly sees hamburger and smiles slightly knowing Ouma will be happy to see that. She closes the refrigerator behind her and considers asking if he filled out any job applications but looking behind her to the messy futon that obviously belonged to Saihara... she didn't bother. Her shift had been horribly long and she was too tired to argue with him. Yelling didn't seem to do much anyway.

Saihara gently fills the rice cooker with rice and pushes the button down to cook it. With that done he vacates the kitchen to let Harukawa step in and begin chopping vegetables. Harukawa seems to do most of the cooking, Saihara noticed that it relaxes her and both Ouma and Yumeno are hopeless when it comes to preparing a meal. He lets his eyes fall to the cucumber that's being sliced up, the knife gently pushing against the skin until it slices through. He gets lost in the repetitive process, finding it pleasingly mind numbing.

“How was your day?” Harukawa asks, jolting Saihara back into the real world,

“Fine,” Saihara supplies, “How was work?”

“The usual, I'm worried about Ouma... unlike me he's not used to mindless work.” She sighs, “But otherwise, it's fine.”

Saihara nods understandingly, despite knowing that Ouma's preferences were programmed, none of it was real, it doesn’t make his understanding of Ouma’s behaviors less real. He did have a hard time imagining Ouma doing grunt work with little to no communication with others. It explains his behaviors when he's at home, that’s for sure. Unlike Harukawa and Yumeno who come home exhausted, Ouma comes home with the energy of a chihuahua injected with three shots of espresso.

“Is he looking for anything else?” Saihara wonders aloud,

“Donno, it's not a bad idea, you should ask him to job hunt with you sometime.” Harukawa states with daggers in her voice, obviously hinting to the fact that she knew Saihara had sat around doing nothing all day.

Saihara considers snapping back at her unfair judgement but the door swings open again, and Yumeno is home, kicking off her shoes and collapsing on the floor lazily without bothering to close the door behind her.

“I'm home...”

“Welcome home.” Saihara and Harukawa chime in unison.

Saihara closes the door and sits down next to Yumeno, asking her about her day. She supplies a vivid story about a horrible customer like she always does. She gives her customers nicknames, today it's the continuing saga about Old Smelly. Everyone listens in to Yumeno as she recalls her daily retail horror story over the sounds of Harukawa frying bits of hamburger and assorted veggies. It's moments like this that make Saihara feel grateful that his Danganronpa graduates agreed to help take care of each other. Being together dulls the ache of existing in the outside world.

Suddenly, the door swings open, and Ouma's there, kicking off his work boots with a spring in his step.

“... Ouma-kun?” Harukawa questions, and Saihara knows why, he usually gets stuck working late night shifts, he shouldn't have made it home in time for dinner.

“Heehee... Hey, Harumaki, Saihara-chan, Yumeno-chan. I'm home!!! Did you miss me~?”

Everyone turns to face Ouma. Harukawa's eyes narrow in at him. Saihara considers running for cover.

“Why are you home?”

“You know... work is just sooo boring! So I just left.”

Harukawa picks up the knife out of instinct, malice burning out of her. Yumeno sprung into action, clinging to her bottom half to calm Harukawa. Saihara stood in the middle, unsure what to do, realizing again how useless he is in every situation outside of a killing game.

“Ouma-kun!You can't just abandon work like that! Am I the only responsible person in this entire house? Between you and Saihara-kun I feel like I'm-” She cuts herself off, looking at Saihara, who's about to burst into tears.

Ouma's grin grows wider.

“Juuuust kidding~! They told me to go home early.”

The rage coming from Maki dissipates as abruptly as it started. She turns back to her cooking, acting like nothing happened. Trying to breathe deeply, Saihara fumbles out to the balcony, one of the few amenities the apartment came with, to calm himself down. Useless at getting a job, useless at curbing Ouma's tendencies, he just wanted to be better, to do better... No wonder Harukawa-san was so frustrated with him...

In the middle of his spiraling thoughts he hears the sliding glass door open behind him and Ouma pops out, leaning out onto the railing, gently touching his elbow to Saihara's.

“Hey, what's up?” Ouma asked with his usual enthusiasm, though Saihara saw through that easily by now.

“J-Just... trying to relax...” Saihara answered, which he was doing poorly, judging by his crossed arms, gripping tightly, almost like he’s trying to hold himself together.

“How's that going for you?” Ouma asks, looking Saihara over, “You're always so stressed out, Saihara-chan! You barely do anything all day, and when you do, you have absolutely zero energy afterwards. Whenever you come back from therapy session you always lay around like a lazy lump and do aaabsolutely nothing for the rest of the day! You’re worrying Harumaki and Yumeno-chan, you know?”

Saihara smiled a bit. It had been impossible to tell during the killing game, and hard to tell while living together at first, but he’s slowly grown to understand how Ouma communicates with the world.

“It's... okay.” He starts softly, “Talking about everything is still... really hard. But she keeps saying it'll get easier, the therapist, I mean...”

Ouma nods at that, and the two fall silent again, just enjoying each other's company. Ouma shouldn't be such a calming presence to him, in fact, he seems to stress out everyone else and cause problems among the house. But Saihara sympathizes... they were created to be entertaining, not to actually function in the real world, and for some reason him and Ouma were hit the hardest by this fact.

“... I think earlier you caught Harukawa-san off guard.” He starts, already feeling Ouma tense up, “I know it's not something you can help sometimes... but I still think you should apologize.”

Ouma is silent, and that silence scares Saihara a bit. He knows it’s not something that Ouma likes to hear, but dealing with these small spats is one of the only things Saihara’s good at within the strained dynamic of the house.

He finally speaks up, bitterness evident in his voice, “... Sure, I'll apologize.”

He scoffs to himself, heading back inside.

And Saihara is alone again.

 

Ouma must have apologized like he promised, because when dinner’s ready, Yumeno-san comes to get Saihara from the balcony. Everything’s already been prepared, Ouma usually puts out the kotatsu for them to eat at and it’s Yumeno’s job to set the table with plates and chopsticks. The meal isn’t fancy today, Harumaki isn’t much for fancy cooking, but it still tastes good and it fills Saihara’s stomach up. Saihara’s silent, listening to Ouma-kun and Yumeno-san talk about their days with Harukawa-san occasionally interjecting with her own anecdotes. Saihara’s really glad that other than Ouma’s occasional pranks, they all seem to get along well, Harumaki and Yumeno both trying to put aside their differences during the killing game now that they understand that they were being pitted against each other. Ouma isn’t a bad person, they all realize that now, and Saihara’s endlessly grateful that everyone’s trying to give Ouma a chance.

 

A few hours pass and Himiko's clad in her cute pajamas, blue with a white star pattern printed onto them, while Maki's in a tshirt and underwear, the two brushing their teeth and spitting in the sink in unison before going to bed. Yumeno climbs up the latter and Maki ducks into the lower bunk, sprawling out and pulling the covers over her to keep herself warm. She hardly has a chance to close her eyes before she hears Yumeno above her.

“... Harumaki?”

“Yes?”

“... Is everything gonna be okay someday?”

Maki frowns. How is she supposed to answer that? Should she lie, tell Yumeno what she wants to hear, or be honest and tell her that their lives are probably fucked? Lying was more of Ouma’s thing, to be fair, and for better or worse Harukawa found herself acting as the glue between this strange household of misfits.

“S-Sorry,” Yumeno spoke up softly, “I know that’s a hard question to answer, and you already do so much… I gotta stop relying on you like that.”

“No! No, it’s fine, really,” Maki was quick to respond, mostly out of defensiveness, “I mean… it is hard, but I don’t mind. You’re… trying. And you’re considerate of my feelings.” She takes a deep breath, feeling a bit of tension in her stomach, “Thank you...”

“You’re welcome,” Maki can hear a gentle smile on Yumeno’s voice, and she’s thankful for it, “Goodnight, Harumaki.”

“Goodnight, Himiko.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know the beginning's a bit short, and maybe not interesting, but hopefully it lays down some ideas that I can explore and flesh out later on in longer chapters. Any feedback would be great, I'm so rusty when it comes to writing. Just be nice;; Thank you!
> 
> Also; I'm aware the GED in Japan is called the "Certificate for Students Achieving the Proficiency Level of Upper Secondary School Graduates" or 高等学校卒業程度認定試験 in Japanese. Though the name is hilariously long and I had no idea how to abbreviate it so I left it as the english equivalent. They, in practice, serve the same exact function.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For this chapter, along with the very obvious and looming themes of mental illness & trauma there’s a brief vague mention of sexual abuse here as well. (I didn’t add anything gross to any of the main four’s background.) Please be safe while reading.

The next day rolls around for Shuichi and Ouma who both slept in. Shuichi being unemployed and Ouma having the nightshift, both had a perfect excuse to do so, at least to themselves anyway. Shuichi wakes up to the smell of Ouma cooking breakfast and rolls out of his futon, sitting on the floor to eat a simple western style breakfast instead of bothering to pull out the table. It was the best Ouma could do, being an inferior cook to Shuichi, but just getting him out of bed was enough effort. Ouma didn’t want to bother trying to make him prepare breakfast too.

The two boys sat in silence and ate. Shuichi picks over his food and eats slowly while Ouma devours his food as quickly as possible and folds up their futons back into the closet from which they came from. Once Shuichi’s finally done with his breakfast he notices that Ouma’s sitting across from him, smile wide, leaning in, watching him closely like he’s waiting for something.

“Ouma-kun...”

“What is it, Saihara-chan~?”

“D-Do you need something?”

Ouma’s smile grows wider.

“Wow, how’d you know! You’re so perceptive, Saihara-chan~!”

Shuichi can’t help but grimace. He had gotten better at dealing with Ouma, but he was still groggy, and he’d rather go back to bed than guess what Ouma wants with him this morning.

“What is it, then?”

“Well~ You see, I apologized to Harumaki, and she was like,” Ouma stops mid sentence to sit up straighter, puffing out his chest, hands on his hips, “ ‘Ouma-kun, if you’re really sorry, you’ll take Saihara to the library tomorrow to apply for some jobs. Look for some on your own while you’re at it!’ So of course I had to agree, you know?”

Saihara sighs. It’s scary how poor Ouma’s imitation of Harukawa-san was, but how Ouma had remembered her words so perfectly that he could imagine her saying the same exact thing last night. Absolutely terrifying.

“So I need to get ready.” Saihara summarizes.

“Yup! You want me to pick out your clothes for you~?” Ouma giggles, walking towards the closet opposite of their futons to pick out some articles of clothing.

Saihara didn’t protest, since picking out a wardrobe was too much effort, and this way he didn’t have to move from his seated position on the cheap, worn down carpet. Ouma carefully looks over their clothing in their shared closet, complaining that Saihara barely has any clean clothes, while tossing a button up shirt and slacks at Saihara’s head. He gets dressed slowly, trying to move as little as possible and leaving his pyjamas in a pile next to him as Ouma debates over wearing two different pairs of pants, both with so many belts and buckles that Saihara wonders how Ouma even gets them on over his legs. He always spends so much time on his clothing. Instead of trying to wear the most comfortable thing like Saihara does he seems to enjoy fashion, which is something that he would have never learned about Ouma if he hadn’t survived the killing game.

He feels a lump in his throat as Ouma finally seemingly decides on something and slips a black t-shirt over the white pants he settled on. Saihara watches Ouma tuck his wallet into his back pocket, watches him grab his keys, and gives a light trademarked chuckle.

“Are you going to keep watching me, or are we going to get going?”

 

Yumeno leans over the counter of the small magic shop she works in. She sighs, feeling horribly bored. The shop is still and empty and she can almost see a layer of dust forming on the old fashioned cash register in front of her. The store is jam packed with memorabilia and magical items. About 80% of the merch in the store is entirely worthless and just there to give the store atmosphere, though once in awhile an idiot who didn’t know what they were doing would buy a crystal ball made of glass. There were things like dragons eggs, frogs toes, and twisted sticks meant to be wands shoved on top of cramped wooden shelves that creek with the strain of the weight of all the junk that’s been jampacked together. There was also an array of what Yumeno would call authentic magical items, things like trick decks of cards, hats you could pull doves out of (no doves included) and other traditional magical spells. Everything in the store is lined with dust and the sun could never quite make it through the windows with all the clutter about, leaving the store dark and musty. Still, Yumeno liked the place, she thought it was charming, and it was nice to work some place where she felt appreciated.

When she had first started working here lots of people came to try to get autographs, someone even tried to get her to sign a bag with a plastic clear pocket with… a ton of merchandise of herself? It freaked her out, and the owner of the shop was a generally kind and understanding man, he was also gigantic, so at first he had to play bodyguard and throw out anyone who attempted to come by to ogle at Yumeno. She managed to never give a single autograph and after the second month of working here the Danganronpa fandom got the point, for the most part, and stopped trying to come by.

She almost wishes one of them would come by. Not really, but still, it’s better than no one coming in… This job’s great when there were people, but otherwise it could get very boring, particularly at 11am when most sensible people were at their own nine to five jobs.

Before she could get too settled into her thoughts, the owner of the store, Inoue-san, walks in the front door. Heavyset and tall, he really could be the bouncer at a club. Yumeno wondered why he had even approached her one day, and she was scared when he said she could get her a job, but once she gave him a chance she learned he really was a kindhearted person. She made more than Harumaki and Ouma-kun and she enjoyed the work when it wasn’t too slow.

“Hey kiddo,” Inoue-san smiles, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, “How’s business?”

“Slow.” She remarks back, leaning her chin into the table, “You wanna buy something, mister?”

Inoue-san lets out a good natured bark of a laugh, walks past her, reaches over to ruffle her hair, and then walks into the back of the store. Yumeno bites back a smile, acting annoyed as she reaches up to smooth her red hair back down. He was always friendly and kind to her, it was so unlike everyone else in this town. Everyone who was decent towards her had no idea who she was, hilariously enough it was her fans that were the cruelest, in her opinion. Though Tenko’s fans were even worse if she was being honest.

She decides that she’s had enough of sitting behind the counter, and since Inoue-san’s here now he’ll probably take over ringing out customers since it’s easier on his back, so she heads to a small closet to the side of the shop with a “high wizards only” sign hanging from it and takes out a broom and dustpan. There’s not much point in trying to clean everything, but some sweeping will at least keep her mind off of less pleasant subjects.

Inoue-san comes out from the back, having put on an apron that ties around the waist that he wears in the store and stands behind the cash register. A few hours pass by as Yumeno cleans the store and they talk about some of their frequent customers, ones that Yumeno always nicknames, and they laugh over some of their weirder and more difficult to handle customers. Time inches by and soon 11pm has become 6pm and the afternoon rush has ended, which was only about four or five people, but it was enough to keep the two of them on their feet and occupied with the strange requests that Yumeno in particular had to try to hunt down from the back room… which was even more cramped than the front of the store.

Yumeno gathers her small backpack and other belongings from the back room before heading towards the front, and she bids Inoue-san goodbye. She had every intention of leaving but something stops her. It’s a nagging thought that she’s had ever since working here, spurred on by her anxiety. Yumeno turns around again to face her boss. Everyday, the question had been bothering her, and well, she had been working here successfully for four months… she figured asking now couldn’t hurt too much.

“Er, Inoue-san?”

“What’s wrong, Yumeno-kun?”

“Is it okay if I ask you a question?”

“Sure! I hope you aren’t asking to put in your two weeks. You’re really helpful around here.” He gives a good hearted chuckle, trying to turn his worry into a joke.

“Nothing like that,” Yumeno responded, “I just… I don’t get why you offered me a job. You obviously uh… knew who I am! At least from tv. But you pay me really well, and you’re so kind, and-”

Inoue-san frowns, “Not everyone is as kind, huh?”

Yumeno nods, blinking back the tears threatening to spill from her lashes. Inoue-san sighs.

“Guess it was gonna come up sooner or later,” He mutters to himself, reaching into his back pocket.

Inoue-san pulls out a wallet, opening it up and letting a laminated section of the wallet that was once folded up fall out and down onto the counter. It’s long, and it’s pictures of a happy family. A man, the same man that’s in front of her, but maybe ten, twenty years younger… a woman his own age. And a younger boy. He can be seen in the photos as a baby, a toddler, young child, all the way up to a teenager about her age. And the the photos stop. There aren’t even any photos of him and his wife together after the point of this boy’s teenage years. She also notices that at the very top near the seam where the photos are connected to the main wallet, there’s one empty space for a photo, it’s almost as if Inoue-san took out a photo, or left it blank on purpose. As Yumeno studies the photos carefully, the owner speaks up.

“... My wife and son. He… wasn’t happy. Found out my happy little family wasn’t as happy as I thought. She was, you know… With my son, she forced him, so he-”

Inoue-san choked back tears, and Yumeno reached out to touch the back of his hand with her own, to let him know that it was okay. He nodded, continuing on.

“... He signed himself up for that goddamn game. They sent me the tape, I think it was meant for my wife, but I saw it. In his audition he said… anything to get away from that woman, and to make that man pay for ignoring him, for never noticing anything was wrong,” Inoue heaves, his chest heavy from baring his soul, “Couldn’t watch the season. Never was a fan of watching kids be killed like that to be frank. Always seemed really terrible. I found out later online that he was killed. I divorced my wife over it, couldn’t stand to even look at her face after that, and got notice a few years later that she killed herself.”

Inoue-san takes a deep breath, collecting himself, and shoving the contents of his wallet back inside of itself, slipping it back into his pocket. Yumeno was, honestly, stunned. She always assumed that society was always against her, that they were the only victims. For some reason it had never occurred to her that there had been 52 other killing games, all with its own survivors left behind, leaving a trail of scared and traumatized people behind years of entertainment.

“I’m part of an, uh, a group, A group of parents online, mostly parents of the kids, who were boycotting and trying to get Danganronpa taken off the air. Not that we were ever taken seriously, of course, but it was nice to have… solice? And we all agreed that if we could help each other with the grief, we would. So when I saw you, I just… had to ask? Figured you could use the money.”

Inoue-san sighs, running a hand through his greying hair, “Sorry, you probably think I’m just pitying you. I shouldn’t be telling a kid all this stuff anyway… Sorry.”

“Not at all!” Yumeno interjects, tightening her hold over the top of his hand, “I’m... really sorry about your son. And,” Yumeno sobs a bit, the waterworks flowing beyond her control now, “I’m really thankful that you saw me as a person, instead of a character, and- and I might be just a character from a tv show! But I’m still really glad we’re friends!”

He smiles and pats her hand before pulling away from Yumeno entirely, straightening up.

“You should get going. That girl’s probably waiting on you, right? The one you live with, the one that you text sometimes on the job?” Inoue pulls himself together enough to give a good natured smile,

Yumeno looked up at the clock on the wall behind Inoue-san, “A-Ah! Yeah, she’s going to be wondering where I am… See you tomorrow?”

He nods, wiping his face off with a handkerchief he procured from somewhere else in his clothing, “Be safe. No backroads, you hear?”

Yumeno nods in understanding, heading out the front door and down the road. As she walked home she debated telling Harumaki and the others about her boss. What he had been through. It made Yumeno feel light and happy to know that not everyone was against her existence but she had no idea if the others would feel similarly. Perhaps this was something better kept to herself...

 

Saihara and Ouma went to the library and spent quite a few hours hunched in front of one computer looking for and applying to jobs online. Ouma did most of the work, Saihara would occasionally point out a job he thought they might be able to do, but most of the picks were from Ouma. They were all surprisingly sensible choices, and even though Ouma’s words were rarely sincere and he screwed around, it was obvious he was there trying to help Saihara. While Saihara wondered if he was even worth helping, he was incredibly thankful for the attempts. He was doubtful any of this would even pan out but at the very least it would keep Harukawa-san content and happy.

The two finished up their business left to wander about town. Saihara would have preferred to go straight home, but Ouma refused, and Saihara knew there was no point in him trying to negotiate with him. So they walked. And made small talk. And walked. And walked. And walked until the sun began to set near what Saihara thought was a shitty little river. It smells, it was likely polluted, and looks like a dumping ground for old electronics and he even saw a bike tire sticking out of the slow moving current. But sitting here with Ouma was somehow slightly romantic. He wondered what I’d be like if he was with a girl. Not that any girl would ever sit with him at the side of a river. But still! Sahara wondered if she’d lean over and kiss him, if he’d even like that, wondering if Ouma-kun’s thinking about girls, if Ouma-kun even likes girls-

“Saihara-chan, are you listening?”

He nods halfheartedly, still half lost in the constant dissociation he found himself in.

“If you say so! Guess you didn’t really say anything though, huh~?” He laughs at nothing, Ouma’s simply filling blank space.

“... Ouma-kun. Why do you, um… K-Keep doing things for me, I mean-” Saihara starts, just absentmindedly saying the first thing that pops into his head, almost like he’s following a romantic script for something in his head, imagining Ouma as the girl in his fantasy-

“Why do you do anything for me?”

Saihara looked away from the river into Ouma’s eyes, expecting to find that glee in them, to be reassured that it was a lie, a joke, a diversion to keep Ouma from talking about his feelings towards Saihara. But instead he saw nothing, no mask, he saw the authentic Ouma shine through.

“You stick up for me all the time, Saihara-chan.” Ouma states as if it’s an irrefutable fact, “Like with Harukawa last night. I can’t even help it, you know? I don’t even know why but I just keep lying and I keep saying things I don’t mean! It’s like everyone’s watching me but no one’s watching.” He’s raking his hands through his hair, pulling at the long strands, “No one’s watching, Saihara-chan. No one’s watching me anymore. Waiting to see what clever sneaky things I’m doing. Cheering me on. Hating me. Nobody cares about me… No one cares about anything I do or say! No one!”

Saihara moves to reach out to Ouma, to try to comfort him… but he pulls away. What’s the point? Ouma’s right… and he’s never had a panic attack, despite everything. Or at least not one that Saihara’s ever seen, anyway. Why stop it? Why? Maybe it’s for the best that he’s a silent observer, that he doesn’t get in the way, doesn’t intervene, doesn’t try to soothe all of Ouma’s wounds. It’s safer… it’s safer for himself not to try to tell Ouma how much he cares about him, how much he wishes he could kiss away his lies-

Wait, was that just a thought he really had? Dangerous. Saihara needed to purge those feelings right away. They would hurt Ouma-kun, hurt himself, they were both already so damaged and Saihara knew he couldn’t be there like that for Ouma. He could barely be there like that for himself. Saihara turns away defensively, focusing his vision on a blade of grass by his shoe.

“Erm, I’m… I’m sorry, Ouma-kun...”

“Sorry, yeah, right, of course you are,” Ouma mumbled, hair in both hands, elbows on his knees, rocking back and forth ever so slightly, “... I bet I could leave, I could never come home, and no one would care. Not even you would care. Why would you?”

“That’s not true, Ouma-kun!” 

Throwing all his instincts out the window, the ones that screamed at him to stay away, Saihara turned to Ouma, putting both hands on his shoulders in a fluid motion. And in an instant, Ouma flinches, retreating further. Saihara snatches his hands away, holding them together towards his chest, almost as if he needs to keep them reined in just in case another mistake is made. That surprised him. Ouma was always openly affectionate with everyone, but with Saihara he was even moreso. So why did he do that? Why is he so uncomfortable?

He realizes that within six months of living with Ouma-kun that Saihara had never tried to physically touch him, and he felt a large brick in his stomach at the realization.

“O-Ouma-kun, I’m so sorry, I didn’t know, I-”

“It’s fine.” Ouma responds, in a cold and flat voice that’s unlike his own, or maybe it was his real voice, “It’s okay… because everything I said is a lie, after all.”

“Ouma-kun!”

Saihara watches Ouma’s eyes flood with tears, the same tears he shed for Gonta. Authentic ones.

“It’s a lie… I want it to be a lie. Let’s let it be a lie, okay, Saihara-chan?” Ouma says, almost pleading with him,

Saihara nods, “Y-Yeah, it was a lie. That’s why you’re fine. You’re okay, Ouma-kun.”

 

Ouma calms down at that, speaks almost a bit more calmly, though it feels forced, unnatural somehow, “I’m okay. I don’t care about fitting in, I don’t care about Harukawa or Yumeno and I hate Saihara-chan.” Ouma smiles bitterly, more tears spilling down, “I led him around town to torture him today, and now I’m sitting here faking a mental breakdown so he grows to hate me...”

Saihara, unsure of how to react, and not sure how to respond to Ouma’s very obvious lies, just sits there and listens. Maybe, just maybe, this is Ouma’s way of trying to tell Saihara something.

But as soon as Saihara expects more, Ouma blinks away his tears, and a mask is back up, he’s standing up, and the sun disappears behind his small figure, the moon spilling out into the sky, lighting up Ouma’s hair, illuminating the streaks of tears lining his cheeks. He holds out his hand to Saihara, smiling.

“Let’s go home, Saihara-chan.”

 

“How have things been, Harukawa-san?”

“Fine.”

Maki Harukawa found herself, once again, seated inside of her therapist's office. While all four of them visited the same office, Harukawa and Ouma saw the same therapist while Saihara and Yumeno saw a different one. It had taken some time for them to find an office that agreed with their… particulars. The first office they went to was one that was chosen by Team Danganronpa, which was a fact that the four of them thought nothing of until it was actually time to visit the counselors. It was obvious to Harukawa right away that something was wrong, and she demanded that they seek therapy elsewhere. Turns out that was the right thing to do, the therapists that the Danganronpa team had picked out for them were more interested in them as study specimens than actually helping him. Deplorable, in Harukawa’s opinion, but she also blamed herself. She should have known better.

A few offices later, and Harukawa had found a decent group of health professionals actually dedicated to helping people. While Harukawa even doubted her need to be here, she knew that if she didn’t go Saihara or Ouma would try to tell her they didn’t need to go, which she couldn’t have.

So here she was. Trying and failing to tell a therapist about all of her problems.

“Saihara still doesn’t have a job. I still don’t know what Ouma’s problem is, Saihara is the only one he really talks to, honestly,” She pauses to cross her arms over her chest, leaning back in thought, “I think… He’s the only one that really gets through to him? It’s weird. But it’s a problem, since Ouma’s still disrupting the household. Yumeno is doing alright. I can tell she’s still struggling, I think her anxiety is still pretty high, but I can tell she’s trying. Sometimes I wonder if Saihara and Ouma care about becoming productive members of society at all.”

“Harukawa-san, these are the problems of your friends. What are you struggling with?”

“Their problems are my problems.” She sighs, gripping her knees with both her hands, “They’re like children I have to take care of, all three of them. I’ve become their mother… Which is stupid, I’m hardly qualified.”

“What do you think would happen if you stopped mothering them?”

“They would never change.” She answered plainly

“Do you think you have some changing left to do?”

“Well… probably,” Harukawa admits, tensing up.

The therapist nods, jotting down some notes. Harukawa wonders if they’d talk about that more, her problems, her flashbacks and her anger, but quickly they switched topics again. Perhaps her therapist senses that she’s somehow still not ready to open up completely.

“How have the dreams been?”

“... Not great.” She replies,

“Did you discuss them with Yumeno-san like we spoke about last week?”

“... No,” Harukawa admits.

Last week Harukawa thought that discussing her traumatic dreams with her closest friend would help alleviate some of her struggles, in reality, she knew she couldn’t. Yumeno had her own problems, which tend to involve a bottle of xanax and crying herself to sleep. Who was she to add onto Yumeno’s problems?

“I see, is there a reason for this?” Her therapist interjected,

“... Not in particular. I just haven’t gotten around to it.”

“I see, if you could do so by next session, that would be appreciated.”

“Of course,” Harukawa bit her lip. Why the hell did she bother coming to these sessions if she was just going to bullshit her way through it?

The therapist gives a small smile, “It sounds like you really respect Yumeno-san.”

“Ah, yeah.” Harukawa nods, “She’s the only one that contributes properly to the household unlike Saihara and never tries to cause problems like Ouma does. It’s a relief to have her around, honestly.”

“I see,” The therapist hums in understanding, “If you respect Yumeno-san, and she relies on you, the least you could do is rely on and trust her with your problems as well.”

Ah. So he saw through her bullshit. Harukawa smiles bitterly.

“... You’re right. I can’t baby her forever.” Harukawa thinks out loud, “She’s my peer of the same age and she’s proven herself to be a reliable ally. I’ll… try to remember that. Thank you.”

The two talked for a bit longer and then the session ends as abruptly as it started. Harukawa watchs the therapist wrote a bill to Team Danganronpa, something that always made her feel a bit better about her life, and then she was on her way home. All the way she thinks about her housemates and what she should prepare for dinner. In the end she decides to make a quick trip to the supermarket to pick up some last minute items. Just in case.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoo, okay, so for Inoue! I’ve been thinking about the previous seasons of danganronpa, what sort of characters were there, what sort of gimmicks those seasons held, etc. I kind of have an idea for a season of my own, though I don’t know if I’d ever do anything with it bc it almost feels like making your own killing game based off of danganronpa is the antithesis of what drv3 is about? But anyway, I think Inoue-san is the father of one of my oc’s, the Ultimate Pirate. He would have been in the 34th season or something like that, probably about 20 years ago. I think Inoue was a lot different when he was raising his son, he probably had a very busy job where he was always doing office work and he was never home... But anyway in general I’m very interested in different opinions towards Danganronpa from non fans and society as a whole within the universe, so there will be more of that, I think!
> 
> Also, uh, Harukawa’s therapy… I tried to do a bit of research on American vs Japanese therapy and I found that it was a bit more problem oriented, so I focused towards that. But obviously I don’t exactly have a way to go to japan to go to therapy just for a fanfic. If it’s inaccurate, I apologize! There’s not a lot I can do about it, there will always be parts of japanese culture that are lost on me considering I’m a white person living in the States. If you do see anything glaringly wrong, feel free to tell me! I’d appreciate it.
> 
> As a last minute note if anyone wants to follow me on twitter and watch me cry about drv3, I'm @recarmdran on there.


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